Merlin BAMF Series
by EchoRose480
Summary: Okay, so I think Merlin's pretty flippin awesome, but he never gets a chance to show it! So, here's a series of one shots with Merlin being awesome, artistic, sexy, etc. Enjoy! Absolutely NO slash!
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Okay, so I thought it pretty unrealistic that Merlin is considered so physically weak in the show, when he has to do so many physically taxing things. So, here ya go! Hope you like it. :D And, just,FYI, I have _not_ been slacking on My Demons Lay in Wait, but just wanted to write something else to clear my head for a bit. Enjoy!

...

Arthur peeled off the sticky shirt, relishing in the cold against his skin. He tilted his head back and breathed deeply of the air, which smelled of sunshine and the grass now cushioning his back. He sighed deeply. These few minutes of recovery after training with the knights were the highlight of his weeks. He folded his hands behind his head and relaxed into the soft ground, soaking the sun into his bare chest and face, the four knights around him doing much the same.

Finally, peace…that was then interrupted by a loud, derisive, and so very rude snort. Arthur sighed. Well, it was nice while it lasted.

"What, _Mer_lin?" he asked, cracking one eye open to glare at his servant. The man was hunched over a large chainmail shirt, polishing furiously and with an odd smirk on his face that belied the furrow to his brow,

"Oh, nothing, sire. It's just…" here, he snorted with laughter again, "Any chance to get your shirt off, huh?" Arthur frowned. What? Gwaine bellowed with laughter from his place on the grass a few paces to Arthur's left,

"He's got you pegged, Princess," he teased. Leon, Percival and Elyan all laughed, also. Arthur scowled. Loyal knights of the realm, indeed. Alright then, if that's the way they wanted it. He turned to Merlin with a smug glare,

"Oh, really?" he said, "Well, sorry to muss your fur, Merlin, but _some_ of us can be proud of the way we look. You've got about as much muscle as new born babe, and half the fat. It's no wonder you wear such baggy clothes," The knights all laughed in agreement, elbowing each other from where they lay sprawled on the ground and chuckling. Merlin looked up from his work and blinked owlishly, looking at Arthur as if he were a small, ignorant child,

"Arthur…when was the last time you've seen me without a shirt?" he asked slowly, tutor like. Arthur scoffed. Actually he _couldn't_ remember the last time he'd seen Merlin without his usually ill-fitted attire. Merlin nodded conclusively when Arthur failed to answer,

"Ahh, so, yet again, your dollop-headedness has led you to blabber-mouthing! Honestly, Arthur, it's not becoming of a king to speak of things he has no idea about," Merlin then went back to systematically polishing the chain-mail. The knights were starting to look disinterested, but Arthur wasn't done yet.

"Okay, then," he sneered, "take off your shirt, Merlin," The knights made various hooting, impressed sounds. Merlin rolled his eyes but didn't look up,

"Prat, why would I do th-?"

"See boys!" Arthur yelled, turning to his comrades, "He's ashamed of his, no doubt, herculean physique!" Merlin flushed a bright red, frowned a bit, and set down his work and stood,

"Fine then," he growled. Arthur and the knights snickered amusedly. Oh, this is going to be good, Arthur thought.

However, when Merlin lifted off his tunic, Arthur realized his own mouth had gone slightly agape. In place of where Arthur had been expecting gawky, scrawny limbs and maybe a bit of baby fat at the belly and armpits, stood lean, muscular arms and prominent abs. His skin was porcelain, except for the areas where pink, various scars stood out. He was well muscled -still achingly skinny- but impressive, nonetheless. By Jove, the man had pecs! The rest of the knights sat looking somewhat cowed and more than a little surprised. Arthur, however, found himself smiling brilliantly, instead of feeling bad,

"Looks like my training paid off!" he cried, rather proud of himself. Merlin scowled down at him, and Arthur realized that he did not look unintimidating,

"Yeah, right," he said, "It's the baling hay, mucking stables, polishing armor and _hundreds _of boots, scrubbing floors, handling pampered, stubborn horses, and lugging giant buckets of your bath water that did it,"

Arthur felt a twinge in his gut that might have been mistaken for guilt if he hadn't known better. Merlin smiled then, a sharp, unsavory thing that contrasted the twinkle in his cerulean eyes,

"The labor of the common man, Arthur," he said, "It's a beautiful, _terrible_ thing,"

Arthur decided to take Merlin's word for it.

A/N: What did you think? I had fun with this, even if it would never, ever happen in the show. Please REVIEW!


	2. Chapter 2

Arthur winked and smirked at a passing serving girl. The pretty little thing blushed and resumed her walk, giggling to her friend as she did. Merlin rolled his eyes, and nearly tripped on a crate as he did. It was evening in the marketplace, and Arthur was forcing Merlin along with him on his errands. Arthur always insisted on picking up his own sword from the smithy, now. He said it was because he didn't want Merlin dropping it and ruining all the fine blacksmith's hard work.

Merlin suspected it was because he'd nearly impaled himself on it a couple weeks ago.

Arthur didn't miss Merlin's gesture of contempt and raised an eyebrow questioningly,

"What?" he asked. Merlin snorted and fell in step beside his king. He didn't like walking _behind_ Arthur. He may not know about Merlin's magic, but Merlin did. He practically lived in Arthur's shadow. He didn't want it to be a _literal _thing.

"You just never leave them alone, that's all. It's like you feed off the admiration of the opposite sex," Merlin said. Arthur looked aghast, than scoffed and laughed, trying to think of some kind of a rebuttal. Merlin waited patiently. Finally, Arthur's brain caught up with him,

"Well, _Mer_lin, I wouldn't expect you to understand. Your appeal to women is minimal, at best. You've never even kissed one, let alone flirted with one,"

Merlin didn't care that people were staring. He didn't care because he was so completely scandalized by what the prince had just said that he thought he had every right to be speaking at high volumes-because he was _not_ yelling.

"I-I have _too_ kissed a girl!" he blubbered. This outburst seemed to seal Arthur's opinion,

"Right," he sneered, "Merlin, I have not seen you _once_ try to be charming around a female. I'm sorry, but I find it hard to believe that you've ever had much to do with the gentler sex, at all. It's in the blood you see. I, for example, could have my pick of anyone in the kingdom, because it comes naturally. You, however, would be hard pressed to find someone who would seal their lips with yours," his voice was teasing, even playful. But Merlin felt the anger building up inside of him. Who did Arthur think he was?! What made him think he could….he needed to be taught a lesson.

…..

Arthur jumped in surprise as a very un-Merlin like laugh of derision reached his ears,

"Oh, Arthur," he put one hand on the king's shoulder, his cerulean eyes twinkling in a way Arthur had never seen, "Watch and learn," he said. He then broke away from Arthur's gaze, and strode confidently into the nearby tavern. He looked taller, his shoulders broader, somehow. Arthur scoffed and folded his arms across his chest, leaning against the building behind him, and waiting.

He only had to wait around two minutes, before, to his unutterable disbelief, Merlin came back outside…with a _girl_. And….a beautiful one, too. The girl giggled at something Merlin said. Merlin had one arm around her waist, and he strode up to Arthur with a triumphant grin,

"Arthur, this is Lily," the girl smiled, and blushed. Though, not at Arthur.

Arthur had to fight to make sure his jaw didn't hit the dirt.

Merlin then did something that would leave Arthur a little pale and slightly insecure for the next week to come.

Merlin slipped one hand onto the small of Lily's back, and with a bend of his knees and a clever twist to his torso, he swung her around in a deep dip, one hand in her hair and the other supporting her just a couple feet above the ground. He planted a fierce, unhesitant kiss on her lips. Her waist rested on one of his knees, and her hands lay limp at her sides, her back arched gracefully and her hair dangled like a velvet curtain behind her. Merlin's arms were folded into her curves, his muscles flexed and lined where exposed. Lily's eyes, which were wide open, then closed in pleasure.

It only lasted a few seconds. But that was all it took. With a flourish, Merlin ended the kiss, and brought them both back up to a normal standing position. Slightly rumpled but looking surer than Arthur had ever seen him, Merlin turned to his prince and lifted one eyebrow. Lily looked like she would swoon.

"What's the matter, Arthur? Afraid of a little competition?"

Arthur couldn't quite bring himself to say he wasn't.

A/N: Okay, maybe a bit ridiculous, but this was fun for me to write. *Sigh* Hope you liked it!


	3. Chapter 3

Arthur flicked the knife up into the air, watching it spin as the sun glinted off the steel edge. The blade then hovered for a split second at its peak and fell to slide deftly into his waiting hand. He pulled back his arm in a smooth, decisive motion, and threw it with an expert wrist motion that only came from years and years of practice and honed skill.

He smirked with satisfaction as the knife wedged softly into the outer edge of the padded red bulls eye of the target, a loud _thunk_ reverberating through the training grounds. Arthur didn't look as the knights, who had been watching, applauded and cheered, though he secretly smiled to himself as they did. He heard the distinctive sound of Gwaine's exaggerated whistles, and rolled his eyes as he strode forward to the bulls eye about thirty feet ahead of him, and pulled the knife back out, glad to see that it had been sticking straight outwards, almost in the middle of the bulls eye, the closest he'd gotten compared to the others that had hit the innermost ring or a bit farther inward. He walked back to the group of knights, and before speaking, spared a glance for his onlooker manservant, whose raven hair shone in the sunlight. His hands were folded behind his back, his face adorned with a small smile, though his gaze wandered about disinterestedly, as if Arthur's success were nothing excitable in the slightest.

Arthur felt that familiar prickle of mischievousness rear its ugly head inside of him, and a wicked smile graced his face as he approached with a jovial call,

"Merlin!"

…

Merlin had been having a good day. Gaius had given him no chores, and he had been allowed to sleep in that morning because of Arthur's top secret council meeting that he had not been permitted to attend. He'd gotten a flower from Gwen, a wink from a pretty serving girl, and a special breakfast of honey cakes, courtesy of Gwaine who had seen fit to reward him that morning for all his hard work.

So it was, that when Arthur strode towards him with his usual air of princely arrogance when in front of his knights during training, Merlin felt decidedly _not_ intimidated, and spoke even as Arthur opened his mouth with a smug expression,

"Why don't you let me try, Arthur? You're always saying, after all, that I should be more interested in these kinds of things," Merlin watched with inward amusement as Arthur's face went from nonplussed to delighted, obviously under the impression that Merlin was digging his own grave.

Merlin did nothing to contradict this feeling.

Arthur pretended to think about it, and both he and Merlin ignored as the knights jeered and carried on, entertained, and then spoke with a nod and a smile,

"Alright, Merlin. Here," he flipped the blade with a superfluous flourish, and handed it over hilt first. Merlin took it, pretending to not know how to hold it, and grabbing the handle with both hands and a fake trepid expression. He then walked forward, keeping a careful eye on the blade and going almost cross eyed doing it. He walked clumsily to the mark in the grass where he would throw the knife, readjusting his feet several times and pushing the soil with his boots, as if unsure of where to put them. Arthur and the knights sneered and chuckled.

Hook. Line. And sinker. Merlin thought with an inward laugh of his own.

Then, suddenly, fast and sure as a viper, he slid his feet apart and bent at the knee, tossing the knife up then snatching it as it came back down, rearing backwards and thrusting forward. The process only lasted a second or so, but Merlin watched with, even, a little jolt of surprise himself as the knife sunk deeply, perfectly, straight into the precise center of the bulls eye.

There was nothing but silence.

Merlin recovered quickly, then straightened from his position and popped the collar of his jacket, raking a hand through his hair and knowing fully well how effortless he had just made that look. Spinning on his heel, he then turned around, and without sparing a glance for the openly gaping knights and prince, strolled out of there with a cool expression and an even brighter mood.

Whoever said you needed magic to have a good day?

….

Arthur watched in open astonishment as his manservant trotted away, with his stupid neckerchief and bright eyes and…._uncanny_ natural ability for knife throwing.

"Wow," Leon said in awe from Arthur's left.

Arthur never would have said it out loud, but he couldn't have agreed more.

A/N: Ehehehe. this one made me happy to write. :) Hope you enjoyed it! My style was just a bit different this time, though I don't know if you noticed. :D Please tell me what you thought!


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: This one's longer than the others. Hope you don't mind. :D I might have gotten a bit carried away, though it wasn't as fun to write as the others. Hmm...

Anyways: this is a response to the prompt by Magic-AngelWitch, who wanted Merlin to be clever. Hope you like it!

Arthur growled in frustration and tossed the quill across his desk, not caring if droplets of ink might soak into the wood. That would be Merlin's problem. He grabbed the parchment he'd just been writing on, crumpled it up with a vigor that belied the weariness in his bones, and threw it over his shoulder. He buried his face in his hands and rubbed slowly, allowing a small moan to escape him. He just felt so tired.

He knew he should sleep soon. But he didn't really have a choice in the matter. Guinevere had long ago left him to her own, private chambers, leaving him alone with his work. He almost wished she were here. She could solve this.

He glared with absolute hatred down at the stack of blank parchment in front of him. And then turned his steely eyes on the scroll laid flat next to the pile, pouring loathing on the elaborate text decorating the yellow, ancient looking, stupid thing. He willed it to burn, so all his problems could be taken with it. Of course, it didn't. It was faintly illuminated from the rapidly dying candles surrounding him; there was no more light offered from nature. Even nature was against his kingship now. Just, great.

He willed it to burn, so all his problems could be taken with it. Of course, it didn't. Arthur rested his elbows on the desk, rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms, and, once finished, didn't move them. He felt his tensed shoulders begin to ease, the frustration in his gut fading away…if only he could have….a few moments of rest...

"Sire?" Arthur startled with a hiss, and realized he had been settling into the fog of his weariness.

"Sorry, were you asleep?" Arthur glanced upward, and groaned at the sight of Merlin, having just walked in, approaching the desk with a curious expression.

"No, _Mer_lin, I was not," Arthur denied, even though he knew it wasn't true, "Now, go away," Merlin didn't even have the decency to look offended. He smiled a bit goofily, and sidled around the desk to loom behind Arthur, his hands resting on the desk,

"What's this all about, then?" he asked, waving at the blank parchment and the scroll, covered with worded and numerical riddles, complicated enigmas, and questions with apparent answers that Arthur just couldn't figure out. Arthur sighed as he realized Merlin was going nowhere, and leaned back in his chair,

"Lord Beivar has agreed to swear allegiance to Camelot…" he said.

"That's great-" Merlin began, but Arthur cut him off, surprised at the sneer in his won voice,

"That is, he will swear allegiance to me, if and _only if_, I solve all the riddles written on this text. It's some sort of old custom where I prove my worth. I have to give him the answers by morning, or he will not ally with us, and his very large, very formidable army will _refuse_ to help us in any time of need," Arthur had been growing increasingly shrill and agitated as he elaborated, and found, as a testament to his exhaustion, that he didn't much care.

There was silence for awhile, and then Merlin spoke up, his cheerful voice grating on Arthur's ears,

"You want me to take a look?" he said, sounding oh so very helpful. Arthur rolled his eyes and sighed, looking up at the grinning face of his manservant. He opened his mouth to say no, that he was king and this was his responsibility and there was absolutely no way that Merlin could do better than Arthur. But he was just so _tired_ and here was someone offering to take the work, and, well,

"Alright, feel free. But don't blame me if something in that head of yours fizzles out and dies," Merlin doggedly ignored that jab, and went to Arthur's other side to peer at the scroll. He peered at the puzzles for a moment, his face set in what Arthur found to be an infuriatingly calm expression. After ten seconds or so, Arthur snickered in triumph and began reaching for the quill he'd thrown. He stopped, however, when Merlin suddenly spoke up,

"Well, it's simple. See, if you find the biconditional of _this_ statement, and then reverse the pattern of the logic so that it steers in an oblong course towards proving the intermittent compounds of the original relation , then the answer can be found, indirectly, within the-" Arthur simply stared, baffled, open mouthed and understanding absolutely nothing of what his servant said. Merlin pointed at different parts of the scroll in turn, not hesitating between breaths as he explained. Arthur watched the boy's blue eyes flick about with a strange, excited light he'd never seen in them before.

What. On. _Earth_?

Merlin, luckily unfazed by Arthur's incredulous expression, finished his narrative, and turned to Arthur with an oblivious smile,

"See?" he said. Arthur was smart enough not to answer that. He was. He was smart enough!

"Arthur?" Merlin asked, furrowing his brow. Arthur, with a start, snapped his jaw shut and crossed his arms, trying not to show how gob smacked he happened to be,

"Merlin, where did you learn that? You've seen this before, haven't you," Merlin's face drew inward with such a sincere look of confusion that Arthur almost fell for it. Almost,

"What do you mean?" He inquired. Arthur frowned, refusing to believe that his servant, that this happy go lucky idiot could be doing what he seemed to be doing.

"Fine then," Arthur said, and plucked the large scroll from its resting place, "Let's see you solve some others, hmm?" He briefly scanned the contents of the page, and chose a random riddle from its columns,

"I am the beginning of the end, and the end of time and space. I am essential to creation, and I surround every place. What am I?"

"The letter 'e'," Merlin said, without a moment's hesitation. Arthur scoffed, and it did _not _sound forced, and looked over the page again,

"It is greater than God and more evil than the devil. The poor have it, the rich need it and if you eat it you'll die. What is it?"

"Nothing,"

"I never was, am always to be. No one ever saw me, nor ever will. And yet I am the confidence of all, To live and breathe on this terrestrial ball. What am I?"

"Tomorrow,"

"What work can one never finish?"

"An autobiography,"

Bloody hell, he wouldn't even twitch! Arthur growled but refused to give up, spouting riddles rapid fire,

"Ripped from my mother's womb,  
Beaten and burned,  
I become a blood thirsty killer.  
What am I?"

"An iron ore," Merlin said with but a couple seconds of thought,

"What is the shortest complete language in the English language?"

"Go,"

"What cannot be seen, heard, tasted or smelled, cannot be touched but can be felt?"

"Time,"

"I start with T. I end with T. And I am full of T. Who am I?"

"A teapot,"

Arthur huffed and threw his hands up in the air in defeat, the scroll crackling in protest as he did. When had this happened? When had Merlin gotten like this? These weren't impossible riddles, but they were difficult enough and Merlin didn't even blink before solving them. Arthur had spent hours…and he had just-

Taking deep calming breaths, Arthur looked up at his manservant's face, and saw it completely blank, except for a slight upward slant at the corner of his mouth that wasn't legally a smirk but still made Arthur want to throw something at him.

This was an injustice, plain and simple, and Arthur just couldn't stand for it.

"Arthur," Merlin said, and his voice dripped with artificial innocence, "Remember, if you ever need any help, feel free to call…wouldn't want something in your brain to 'fizzle out and die', now would we?"

A/N: Okay, this one was a bit different than the others. I hope you still liked it! Please let me know if you did. :D As in **Review!**

**PS: These riddles were not of my own making. I found them on the internet. :D Well, most of them. But none of them are mine. :'(**


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Ohmigosh! I had so much fun writing this. :D I hope you guys like it!

...

Merlin really, _really _wasn't in the mood.

He'd known it was going to be a bad day. From the moment he'd woken up by falling out of bed and hitting his head on the corner of the wood frame, he'd known. Before that, he'd been having a nightmare about Freya, who'd screamed at him for what seemed like years, with blood pooling on her dress, and tears streaming from her eyes, and both smearing her beautiful, agonized face.

Gaius had been gone for a week, off at one of the outlying villages to treat the many who had been injured by a recent magical attack. Merlin had gone a week without being able to voice his frustrations or grievances to anyone.

Things hadn't been made any better by Arthur, who was extremely grumpy of late, losing sleep and patience due to the manhunt he'd been leading to find the sorcerer who had attacked the village. Not to mention, Gwen was trapped in bed with a mild illness, and, from what Merlin could tell, had been practically torturing her husband with her irritable demeanor and restlessness. Of course, Arthur had, by default, taken out all his frustration on Merlin. Extra chores and impossible tasks, and a king with a foul mood had done nothing to lift the secret warlock's already downcast spirits.

And then this morning, Merlin had been forced to skip breakfast, as Arthur had come storming into the chambers while he was still treating the small wound on his head, with news that they had a new lead in finding the sorcerer. Merlin had quickly pulled on his boots, which were still, regrettably, damp from the last day, and ran out the door. The last week had been marred with dreary weather, a constant drizzle, occasionally overtaken by full blown rainstorms. Merlin had forgot to light a fire to dry them the night before, because he'd stayed up for a few extra hours searching through his magic books for some kind of cure for Gwen's illness. His efforts had been fruitless. However, he had managed to develop a nasty head cold. A fever was quick in approaching, as well, if the way he was feeling was anything to go by.

They'd quickly made their way down into the town, in the pouring rain, no less. Merlin had tripped at some point in his efforts to keep up with the knights, and had sprawled into the mud and gravel, scraping his knees and palms raw. Arthur had hauled him to his feet by his neckerchief, choking him for a moment, and irritating the wound in his head when he jostled him.

All in all, it was that as Merlin stared at the man in front of him, the many with his yellow smile, and his beady eyes, and his chubby stubbly chin, and his sweaty red nose, refusing to tell them the whereabouts of the sorcerer, that he found himself rather out of sorts.

He just wasn't in the mood.

"I am telling you, this man has killed a dozen people, and injured countless others. He must be brought to justice!" Arthur yelled, slamming his fist on the man's counter, the overhanging animal carcasses swaying from the disturbance.

The man rolled his eyes and picked at his teeth with his grimy, fat hands, before flicking whatever it was he found at Arthur's face,

"And I'm telling ye, I don't know where he is," the man smirked and crossed his arms over his protruding belly. Arthur was red in the face, Gwaine, Elyan, Leon and Percival looking much the same. Merlin stood behind them all, leaning on a support beam, trying to contain his own malice, and stewing in his own brooding, dark thoughts.

"Listen here," Arthur hissed, stepping forward a bit, "I _know_ you are hiding him. I _know _he has paid you off. My sources are infallible. If you won't tell me, it will be considered high treason, and you will be executed,"

The man didn't even flinched. He snorted and scratched his cheek, an arrogant sneer easing onto his face. Merlin had to fight the urge to smack it off.

"You can't hurt me," he chortled, rubbing his stomach and lazing forward onto the counter, "I'm your only lead," he then hacked noisily, and spat in Arthur's eye.

Merlin didn't know exactly how it happened. But it was that one moment he was quiet and observant in the back corner, and the next he was striding forward, head pounding with fury. Before anyone even realized exactly what was happening, even Merlin, the secret warlock had plucked the man's own small knife off the counter, had reached across to grab the man's wrist, and smacked the blackguard's hand onto the wood. The man squealed as Merlin stabbed the knife with a harsh yell directly into the empty space between his thumb and forefinger,

"Where is he!" Merlin roared. The man whimpered but firmly pressed his lips together, shaking his head rapidly with wide eyes. He tried to pull away, but Merlin grabbed his collar, and yanked him closer, watching as his face mashed onto the counter, and then pressing downward on the back of his neck to keep him there. Merlin growled, a sound that he was sure couldn't have possibly come from his throat. He plucked the knife upward, and then brought it down again, this time, between the man's middle and index fingers.

"Where is he!" he repeated. The man gaped like a fish, and seemed to be trying to catch his breath.

Merlin repeated the pattern, watching the fear in the man's face grown with each passing second. After stabbing between each finger, he then quickly stabbed around the hand in quick succession, the force of the impact against the wood causing the air to shiver. All the while, Merlin was honestly perplexed by his own actions, sure that he should stop.

But after so long repressing his emotions, hiding his fears and doubts and frustrations…

It just felt so _good_.

However, the man maintained his silence, and Merlin had one more idea, and he was sure he should be slightly disturbed that it had come out of his own mind. Acting more on instinct than on logic, Merlin vaulted over the counter, grabbed the back of the man's shirt and pulled him back into an arm lock, one arm around his neck, and the other holding a knife against the soft flesh directly under his right eye.

"Tell me, or I cut it out," Merlin hissed into his flabby ear. The man swallowed against Merlin's taut palm, and rasped quietly,

"He's a day north of here…hiding…a sawmill, in Riversten,"

Merlin nodded, and then spun the man around and shoved him forward, watching as he collided with the counter and almost fell over. His eyes were brimming with fear, his lip trembling. He looked like he was about to cry.

Merlin saw what he had done, and felt no small amount of guilty. Looking up, he saw the knights, and Arthur, staring at him. Their eyes were wide, their jaws dropped, all of them frozen in positions of shock and astonishment. Merlin's head wound was throbbing terribly.

He had the sudden urge to be sick.

Quickly reciting the information he had gathered, Merlin made a hasty exit from the building, ran into the nearest alleyway, and did just that.

...

A/N: So, please tell me what you thought! This was in response to a request by Ellisan43. I haven't seen the movie you referenced, Ellisan, sorry, but I hope you liked what I did. :D Thanks for the request!

PS: I know Merlin was a bit intense, but it was just so flippin' fun to write, truly! Also, do you guys want me to make this into a two-shot, to show a bit of Arthur afterward? Tell me if you do!


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Sorry this one took so long guys. Writers block. Blech. :b Well, here ya go! hope you like it. :D

...

Merlin didn't seem to notice Arthur's attempts at offering some kind of comfort.

He could only lay a hand on the boy's shoulder as he shook and dry heaved into the dirt and gravel beneath him. Merlin tried to steady himself with one hand against the filthy wall of the alley, but Arthur made sure his own grip was tight and reassuring, just the same.

Really, the whole situation did seem a bit jarring and strange compared to the scene that had just unfolded not five minutes ago.

Arthur had watched with a kind of numb shock as his manservant had transformed into something disarmingly menacing as he'd interrogated and scared the wit out of a man with twice his body mass and three times his ego. And now he was throwing up and shivering and harboring a decidedly unhealthy greenish hue to his skin.

Arthur would never admit it to anyone who was still among the living, but he had been at something of a loss when his manservant had intervened.

He had almost forgotten Merlin's presence as he'd struggled to isolate and contain the fury he'd been feeling towards the man who, supposedly, according to Arthur's sources, was in cahoots with the sorcerer. Arthur had tried everything from intimidation to negotiation, and yet, the man had remained silent. Stubbornly, gratingly, _insufferably_ silent. And then, he'd spat in Arthur's face.

If it hadn't been for Merlin's startlingly immediate reaction, Arthur would have punched the man's face in himself. Of course, Merlin's technique had been far more affective, and far more…uncouth, to say the least. Of course, Arthur supposed, it all depends on what your definition of "uncouth" was. In this case, Merlin's unreasonable and assuredly creative actions might have been considered entirely sensible to, say, a professional sadist.

Arthur supposed that his own _couth_ attempts had ended up as failures, anyways. So why was he so unnerved by Merlin's display? It had gotten the job done hadn't it?

He would like to tell himself that it was because he was jealous. That his pride was hurt by the fact that his untrained servant could get done in no more than a minute what he and his select knights couldn't in a half an hour. And though, somewhere deep inside, he acknowledged there was a small grain, small being the key words, of course, grain of truth in these explanations. But even he knew it was a poor excuse for the current frazzled state of his nerves.

In truth, he had to admit that it was possibly the sight of his scrawny, so-called, by Arthur himself, clumsy servant had somehow managed to terrify the hell out of a man who hadn't been the least bit intimidated by Arthur or Gwaine or even Percival, whose bulk was enough to scare some of the mightiest and proudest of men. Maybe, it was the fact that Arthur could see plainly why that made sense. Merlin hadn't been putting up some kind of masculine front, he hadn't been acting. That had been a real fury in his eyes, a real snarl from his lips. Arthur, though he'd been far too shocked at the time to do anything about it, had briefly feared that Merlin might hurt their lead. He'd been that completely genuine.

It was just too out of character for Arthur to accept. Merlin needed a talking to. If not for his sake, than for Arthur's. For _his_ peace of mind. Merlin was happy and goofy and perpetually optimistic, if a bit sarcastic, and he was not supposed to be allowed to go around scaring people and confusing his king. It was just selfish, that was what it was.

Arthur couldn't quite bring himself to be mad, though. He blamed it partially on his own stupid compassionate side, but mostly on the fact that he and Merlin were both sitting in the mud of an abandoned alleyway, shaking from the cold in the midst of a light drizzle while the latter of the two shuddered and hacked under the former's awkward touch. Arthur waited for what must have been only a few moments for Merlin to calm down and spit the taste out of his mouth. He sniffed and swiped his sleeve across his nose, and Arthur was alarmed for a second, thinking his servant was crying, but then saw that his eyes were dry, if a bit red to match his nose and flushed cheeks. Arthur frowned as Merlin waved away his hand and scuttled backward from the measly puddle of his sick to sit back against the opposite wall of the alley. When had Merlin gotten sick?

Arthur followed, and sat down next to his friend.

Arthur coughed uncomfortably and scratched the back of his head, stealing a glance at the raven-haired man next to him. Merlin's eyes seemed oddly sunken in, weighed down by the dark circles underneath. His skin seemed slightly sallow, and rather more pale than usual. Arthur honestly noticed, for the first time, the shallow cut above Merlin's right eye atop a tender looking bump. Arthur winced and wondered when that had happened. What stood out most of all, however, more than any physical malady, was the odd expression he wore. His face was plastered with weariness and heavy frustration. He just seemed…_grumpy_, if ever there was a word to describe it. Arthur was a bit taken aback by this. Merlin didn't get _grumpy_.

Did he?

And then, images of Merlin's lips twisted into a furious sneer as he caressed the sharpened edge of a blade against the eye of a man he held, vulnerable, in an inescapable arm lock.

Okay, so maybe he did get grumpy.

"So…" Arthur dragged out the word, trying for a teasing smirk, "Bad day?"

Merlin snorted and sniffed, a heady noise that hinted at the cold he must be suffering from. That Arthur hadn't noticed he'd had.

"Try week," Merlin chuckled darkly. Arthur grunted in response and raised his eyebrows,

"Missing Gaius?" he asked. Merlin's eyes flicked over to his master, but then he closed them, and leaned his head back against the cool stone,

"Yeah. Yeah, I guess you could say that," he said.

Arthur frowned and readjusted his position. He could feel the mud starting to actually seep _in_ to his trousers, but ignored the disturbing sensation. Merlin seemed to be humoring him. This both worried and angered him simultaneously. The man had seemed surprised and frightful towards what he'd done himself. For a moment, Arthur had been afraid he would faint, just before he ran outside. Arthur had quickly ordered his knights to tie up his men and ready the horses, and then ran after his friend. If Merlin was so out of sorts that he was lashing out in ways that scared him…well, Arthur just wasn't very happy with that.

"Well, Merlin, I suppose it would _have _to be," he said, "That, and quite a few other things, for it to have made you do something so stupid as what you just _did_," Merlin chuckled again, this time sounding more resigned than anything, but didn't open his eyes,

"Just been a bit rough lately, I guess. Sorry," he offered. Arthur didn't buy it, but didn't try to push farther. They had all been having a rough week, after all. With the attacks and Gwen's sickness and the weather, and well, just about everything, Arthur wasn't really surprised that Merlin was a bit overwrought.

Gaius had been gone all this time, after all. And there was no way the young man wouldn't be feeling a bit lonely and overwhelmed with it all. Arthur realized with a wince that this was partly his fault, as well. He had been a bit tough on his friend lately.

Well, he could make it up to him by just…being there for him. Not questioning or prying. Just being there.

"No! Don't be," Arthur said hurriedly, with a mild, disbelieving laugh, "You got the information we needed, and that's really all that matters, right?" Arthur elbowed Merlin imploringly, and was offered with a tired, slightly forced smile,

"Yeah," he said noncommittally. Arthur slumped a bit at the lack of response, but was satisfied Merlin didn't seem quite so angry anymore. Bloody exhausted, yes, enough so that he had made himself sick. But not grumpy. Never grumpy. That was just wrong.

And, if he was completely honest with himself, Arthur didn't like Merlin acting intimidating. It was far too convincing.

"Well," Arthur said, letting his own head rest against the wall as he raised his face upward, letting the cool drops of the rain patter on his face, "it wasn't the tactic I would have chosen, that's for certain," Arthur could almost feel the raised eyebrow in his direction,

"Oh?" Merlin said, voice dripping with sarcasm, "What would you have done, almighty lord?"

"Not something so barbaric as what you did. I mean…that was just sloppy,"

"At least I got us some results,"

"Indeed. But only after sticking a knife under his eye. That was just sad…"

"Hah! I'm not the one with phlegm still stuck in his hair,"

Arthur's hand was picking frantically through the aforementioned strands before he could stop himself. Merlin snickered, and Arthur glared at him. The man was smiling cheekily, which was a huge relief to his king. Guilt was not a feeling that Arthur enjoyed, but one he was annoyingly prone to. And seeing that his manservant had been so overcome with exhaustion that he'd become ill had called forth the emotion. And there was Merlin's regular old self again. Arthur didn't know how Merlin had acted the way he had, or done so with any notable amount of skill, but he didn't much care right now. Right now, he had a sorcerer to catch, and a friend to get some warm soup for.

…

"…And so, I told them where the sorcerer was. Arthur tried to make me go home, but, of course, I had to follow and make sure he didn't hurt himself. Then I came back," Merlin finished his story, dipping his spoon into Gaius' warm stew, feeling rather contented with his recent misadventure. Gaius raised his eyebrow from across the table, though seemed honestly interested, if a bit disapproving,

"But, how did you use your magic to interrogate the man without Arthur or the others seeing," he asked. Merlin glanced up at him as he chewed a bite of potato, giving his guardian a perplexed look,

"Wha?" he inquired with his mouthful. Gaius leaned forward, exasperated,

"How did you use your magic to wield the knife without Arthur noticing?" Merlin chewed slowly, and then swallowed. He set down his spoon on a clean cloth, and used the same one to wipe his mouth before leaning back in his chair, and folding his hands behind his head. He somehow managed to look both slightly affronted and proud at the same time as he spoke,

"Who said anything about magic?"

...

A/N: Eh, not as proud of this one as I would like. But, once again, writers' block. X( Arthur's voice was a bit different in this one, I wanted to make him a bit different! :) I hope you all had a wonderful Christmas!

PS: Okay, this is a very, very weird train of thought. But just, bear with me. I have lots of friends here in the U.S. that think British, Australian, and pretty much lots of different European accents are very sexy. And I was just wondering if anyone over there ever actually finds American accents sexy? I'm just wondering, because lots of girls are super crazy over British accents and such, but I don't know if an American accent would sound cool to anyone out in Britain or Australia, or something. I know, stupid question, but hey! I'm curious about these things. ;) Have a lovely day!


	7. Chapter 7

Usually, they had more time than this.

It wasn't every day that Arthur was captured by some bandit leader who was stupid enough to think he could get away with it. But it was every other month or so. Definitely often enough that certain patterns developed, and the situation was no longer an alarming one, but something rather like a routine.

And usually, they had more time than this. At least, a half an hour or so before the bandit leader came into the cell, demanding, threatening, or sometimes even thrusting him as a participant into some kind of sick game or underground tournament. It all really depended on whether or not the leader knew Arthur was a king. In truth, Arthur preferred the cases where they already knew, because these scum had a tendency to be overly impressed when they _did_ discover his identity, and were therefore, apparently, enlightened to the worthlessness of _Merlin's _life, and would try to kill him.

This time, though, the leader came much sooner. This hadn't given him and Merlin anytime to do their usual collaboration, in which they would find some means of escape. Not that it really seemed to matter. The raven-haired man was chained to the wall opposite him, arms hanging in cuffs above his head, which was ducked downward to his chest, as if he were asleep. But he wasn't, Arthur could see from his open eyes, and the way his lips pursed into a pale strip across his sallow face when the door to their cell opened, and their captor ambled in.

The man was large, unsurprisingly, with grotesque rolls of fat badly hidden beneath his thick, furry cloak. The thick, flabby layer of skin collaring his jugular area jiggled rather unattractively as he let out a typical, villainess cackle to the uninterested ceiling.

Arthur rolled his eyes, and they landed upon the still unresponsive form of his servant. He was like a statue, staring unnervingly hard at the ground as if he might be sick by looking anywhere else. He looked it, too. His skin was an ever deepening shade of green, and there was a strange tremble to his shoulders. Arthur was fairly certain that Merlin hadn't been injured during the fight, but he was just on the verge of being concerned when their captor spoke up,

"Well, then. I suppose your situation has been made clear to you. You are my prisoner…Arthur Pendragon," his voice was unusually nasal, which made the pointed emphasis on Arthur's name far less impactful than it should have been. Arthur resisted the urge to roll his eyes again, and simply returned the man's gaze impassively,

"So, you know who I am, then. Congratulations," he said. The man laughed again, a terrible wheezing sound that was far too shrill and far too forced to be anything less than extremely painful to Arthur's ears,

"Oh, yes," the man managed after a while, his face splitting into a wide, yellow grin that served to make his already beady eyes even tinier, "And I know exactly what I'm going to do with…" he faded off, a strange sound interrupting his declaration that turned Arthur's blood cold as he realized the source.

Merlin was crying, shoulders trembling more visibly now in accordance with the small, quiet sobs escaping through the gaps in his choked, ragged breaths,

"Please," he whimpered, and Arthur felt his heart clench with pity, his throat close up with disbelief, "Please, let me go,"

Their captor turned towards Merlin, brow furrowed in annoyance. Arthur fought a losing battle to keep his jaw from dropping, because Merlin wasn't being his usual, smart ass self with his snarky, rebellious comments and stubborn refusal to be anything but practically suicidal in the face of danger and was, instead, _begging_ to be let go.

And though Arthur would have thought himself to be relieved that Merlin had finally gained an understanding of the value of his own life he was, instead, only confused and somewhat sick inside. Because, damn it, Merlin was _not_ smart enough for that, and Arthur had been certain never would be. And he was afraid at the prospect of Merlin being…well, afraid.

The feeling grew as their captor sauntered over to Merlin, and folded his arms across his massive chest a few feet in front of him. The effort seemed to take a lot out of him, and he sweated profusely even as he smirked in condescension,

"Please," Merlin begged, his voice little more than a tragic rasp, "Please…I don't want to die. Let me leave, I'll tell no one, please," He grew evermore upset, and their captor's face pinched in derisiveness and irritation,

"Now, why would I do that, you little maggot?" he sneered. Arthur fought against his restraints, the metal chaffing his wrists raw as he yanked and pulled. Merlin's broken sobs tore at his heart, twisting his gut in what felt like anger but could have just as well been guilt or sorrow, or a combination of all.

"I beg of you," Merlin wailed, now flailing against his own restraints, raising a devastated, tear streaked face upward, eyes pleading and bloodshot, "Please!" Their captor unfolded his arms, now looking angry,

"Stop," he commanded. Merlin continued screaming though, weeping and shaking, an animalistic terror causing his cries to rise in volume with each passing second. Arthur's horror grew as the bandit leader took a step forward,

"That's enough!" he roared, but Merlin only answered with louder, more desperate laments, "Stop!"

Their captor tromped over to him, and bent over so their faces nearly touched. His own was flushed and furious, eyes wild. Merlin continued weeping, head bent over as sobs tore through him. Arthur could only watch in growing alarm as the man yelled, spittle flying from his flapping, chubby lips onto Merlin's face,

"Shut up! Now! Just. Shut. UP!"

Suddenly, so abruptly and entirely did Merlin's countenance change that he seemed to suck the air out of the room with his deathly silence. He raised his head, drew it back, and whipped it forward. His forehead connected with the man's face, a loud crack resounding through the cell as it did. The man screamed and fell back on his haunches, clutching at his nose as a waterfall of blood cascaded down his lips and chins and onto his shirt.

The guards who had been waiting outside rushed in, and Arthur cried out in warning. But Merlin, with a prolonged yell of determination and pain, yanked his hands out of the cuffs, blood streaming down his forearms as he jumped to his feet. He intercepted the first guard's stab, sidestepping the strike, grabbing the guard's wrist and then stepping in to connect his elbow with his face.

The man stumbled back an crumpled against the wall. The next guard didn't have a chance to get close enough for the same fate. Merlin dropped to the ground in a crouch and spun his leg around in a decisive sweep, knocking his attacker's feet out from under him. He hit the ground hard on his back, and Merlin quickly stepped one leg over his torso, bending down over him and then rearing back his fist. He dealt a powerful blow t the side of the man's head, knocking him unconscious.

Arthur's mouth was wide open, but he couldn't seem to draw in a breath, only managing a daft croak here or there.

Merlin plucked the keys from the guard's belt, then approached him, and Arthur couldn't help but be fascinated by the grim quiet marring his tear stained face that had, just a moment ago, been twisted in grief and a cowardice that had rendered Arthur speechless,

"You…" Arthur stammered as Merlin freed him from the chains, "You…you just…how…Merlin, you can act!"

Merlin rolled his eyes, eyes that were still red and wet from his many shed tears, and Arthur, still in a shocked and addled state of mind, predicted that they would be very sore, later.

Arthur rubbed his wrists as he stepped away from the wall, though his eyes were stuck firmly on Merlin's. The skin was ripped from where he had freed himself, and blood continued to stream from the ugly wounds, mixing with the grime on his skin,

"Did…That hurt, didn't it?" It was a stupid question, and Arthur wanted to slap himself as Merlin raised an eyebrow without quite looking up, his own eyes glued to the sight of his ravaged wrists. He simply nodded, and, for the first time, Arthur noticed that those tears in his eyes were not faked. Not like the others. Arthur swallowed uncomfortably, raised his hand, twitched it forward awkwardly, and then rested it on Merlin's shoulder. He shifted stiffly and sniffed, before coughing and withdrawing his touch,

"Shall we, uh, shall we go…then?" Merlin gave him an amused smile,

"We better. I can only save your arse so many times before it _really_ starts to hurt,"

...

A/N: An author's note to tell you I have nothing to say.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Merlin stands up for himself fic! YAY! Was I the only one that hated, hated, HATED that scene? So, I fixed it. Hope you enjoy! I also published this as a one shot, but decided to put it here, as well, for maximum reviews. Hahaha!

...

"You know, Merlin, all those things I said about you being a coward, I never meant them," Arthur said, eyes resigned and filled with shame. Though not for himself, "I used to think you were the bravest man I knew...I guess I was wrong,"

Merlin's mouth hung slightly open, horror emanating from his pale features, a layer of fear over his eyes. Arthur turned away from him, expecting to hear a feeble apology or explanation, or the sound of the door closing behind his manservant as he left quietly, resignedly.

Instead, all he heard was his own yelp as he fell to the floor, and the loud clatter of his freshly polished gauntlet striking the stone floor after bouncing hard off his bed post.

"You…you idiot!" Merlin yelled furiously, eyes shining with hurt and angry tears as he stomped toward Arthur, who scrambled to his feet, face etched with shock and incredulity, "You bloody, imbecilic moron! Are you completely stupid, or just that arrogant? Listen here, you bloody clotpole," Merlin cornered Arthur against the bed post, and thrust a finger under his nose, "You're a king, _you're_ a knight. I've polished far too much armor and heard far too much of your prattish grouching to know anything less. But I don't have armor, or training, or any of the so called entitlements of your birthright. And yes, this terrifies me," Merlin's face, inches from Arthur's, was flushed and angry, eyes still bright with hot tears. And Arthur could only stare, unable to speak,

"But I do it all anyway. I _still_ run into battle. I _still_ drink poison, I _still_ confront dragons. I get beaten, cut, captured, stabbed, and still find time for the stocks every now and then when I'm covering for _your_ irresponsible arse. I've had a bloody mace go through my chest! And if you weren't too caught up in your own self pity, you would remember I was the one asking you to leave me behind so _you_ could survive," Merlin stopped to catch his breath, chest heaving as his hand dropped to his side. But his gaze never wavered, those blue orbs bore into Arthur, bringing to light new feelings of guilt and shame, and he couldn't breathe,

"So don't you dare. Don't. You. _Dare_ accuse me of being a coward. Because I've had nothing but faith in you Arthur, all the times I've bled and hurt and nearly died, I never lost faith. Have the decency to give me the same courtesy, because you and I both know I deserve it. And when I tell you that I can't be by your side this time, and that I have good reasons, you better _damn well _get over yourself, andlisten to me. And you know why?" Merlin jabbed a finger at his chest, and growled through clenched teeth, absolute conviction and truth poured from his voice,

"Because, Arthur, _I_ am worth it. And it's about time you realized that."

..

A/N: Oh, glory be that felt so good to write. *Contented sigh*. **Reviews!**


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